FrostFlight
by eoraptor
Summary: Strange Doings are afoot in the port of Arendelle, but this time it's due to a slew of guests come late to the party... Frozen/Brave
1. Chapter 1

**_"FrostFlight"_**

**By Eoraptor**

**T for Teen.**

_AN: Frozen and Brave are both Property of the Walt Disney Company. This work is not-for profit and is intended solely for the enjoyment of its audience under fair use._

* * *

"Hmmm hm hmm hmm… I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas day…" The Queen of Arendelle hummed lightly as she watched the servants moving about the great hall, stringing the various bits of winter greenery."

"Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Four Ships!" The doors of the hall burst open, letting in a gush of cold air and a whirlwind of red hair and braids.

"Yes, that's what I was singing Anna," Elsa smiled and shook her head as she arranged a sprig of holly at the apex of one of the bannisters. "But it's Three Ships, not four."

"What?" The younger sister stopped, inclining her head. Then she shook it hard and seized her sister, guiding her to the windows, pointing out at the fjord, "Four ships!"

Confused and disturbed, Elsa took a breath, allowing herself to be guided. She fiddled with the greenery in her hands and looked out as her sister insisted. At first she saw nothing more than the normal winter-time activity of the fjord. Closed down and iced in almost out to the sea, a few tracks were clear where folks would skate out on the frozen sea to cut holes and fish.

Then a sound reached her ears; a sort of rhythmic drumming, slow and steady. Looking further down the steep walls of the inlet, Elsa saw perhaps the strangest sight in her young life. Four long narrow ships were… walking… up the sea ice from the ocean.

Rubbing her eyes, Elsa stared again. Shaking herself free from Anna's grasp after a moment, she reached out and took a spy glass from the curio nearest the window. Peering through it, she saw that it wasn't the boats which were walking… it was people, under them, carrying them!

And every so often, long oars would appear from the ships and press against some piece of ice, or alternately, smack some member of another boat's crew on the head punitively.

"What on Earth…?" the Queen shook her head, lowering the spy glass from her eye. "Anna, call for Kristoff and Sven. They travel around a lot… maybe they know about… walking boats."

"Yes Your Highness! Right Away! At your command!" Anna snapped off a jaunty little salute and then spun, racing to the edge of the stairs before leaping upon them and heel-sliding down the freshly waxed banister.

Elsa rolled her eyes and sighed. The staff hated it when she did that. The crash that came from below was followed quickly by an, "OOOoops! Sorry! My fault! I'll fix that!" which was followed by a clattering of metal on metal.

Elsa didn't need to see the scene to know that Anna had crashed into Marten, her 'friend' the suit of armor that stood guard at the bottom of the stairs. She chuckled softly and smiled to herself before reaching for the spyglass again, looking out at the fjord. She didn't recognize the ships, or the symbols on the sails, only that they were not like the carracks used along the coast.

* * *

"Well Hmmm…"

"Dah!" A long punctuated whine came from atop the leadmost of the ships. "Why are we walking tha boats in?"

"Becase! I will not be without me ships in a strange land." Came a sharp bark from a mountain of a man hobbling along, shouldering most of the prow of the knarr by his lonesome, an odd sort of ski attached to the end of a wooden post which had replaced one of his legs.

"In the dead of winter… when he knew the seas would be frozen." Came a slow, smooth complaint from the forward of the lead ship's deck. "Only yer father would launch a trade mission in winter to a foreign coast."

"Elinor, dear. You were thee one who insisted that we acknowledge the opening of the port of Arendelle." The great man grunted as he trudged along at the head of his men.

"Yes dear… in August, when the straights were clear and the weather fair." The Queen of Clan Dunbroch shivered and held her black sable lined cloak closer to her shoulders. "Not in December, and especially not at the holidays."

"Isht not mah fault tha the daft little man decided to go stirrin' up troubles with those even more daft Welshies across the straights, naw is it…" He grunted again, and then looked up, to see a withering glare from both of the women in his life, "Now is it… dears?"

With a huff, the Queen was forced to admit that, for once, her husband was right… that infuriating little Dingwall had decided to insult the princess of one of the Welsh clans by trying to foist off his barely verbal son on her. War had barely been averted and it had taken three months to clear up the agreements.

"Bored… be right back," the princess declared.

Elinor sighed, knowing that when her flame-headed daughter declared she was bored, trouble could not be far behind. Sure enough, she watched Merida flee to the rear of the knarr and begin digging in the stores under one of the seats amongst the few men still aboard the deck. A moment later she popped up with a triumphant yelp and held aloft her prize.

Her prize was a long recurved bow. In its bolsters were incised intricate royal knotwork and runes, one of the few signs that her daughter was in any way educated. The tips were painted now, hiding the fire hardened limbs with royal purple and green. Dangling loosely from one tip was the string and at the peak, an eagle's feather.

The slim princess quickly swung a leg about like the expert rider she was, using the same muscles she used on her war horse to bestride the bow and bend it down to her will. She strung the other end up and gave it an experimental pluck. Satisfied, she again ducked under the disturbed oarsman's seat, and rooted around until she produced her quiver.

Grinning maniacally, she returned to the prow of the knarr and set about her task. She drew an arrow loose and then fastened some of the twine she saw hanging out of a nearby bag to its nock. Mounting the gunwale with one leg, and crossing her other knee beneath her to set up a stable platform on the slowly rolling walking ship, she looked for her target.

Elinor looked on her daughter's actions curiously. While she felt herself above such lowly trappings as hunting, she could admit that her oldest child could be quite ingenious at the task. Then her eyes followed the tail of the arrow downwards… along the twine… and right to…

"Mah Tepestry! Merida stop! You'll unrav-,"

"There ye are ye wee beauty." Too late the warning came from her mother, as Merida exhaled and loosed her warhead.

The arrow launched itself with almost inhuman force; after all, Merida's bow was just shy of Odysseus's own for its tension and power, and like the ancient king, only she could string it. The iron warhead whistled as the arrow flew, plunging into a slushy circular hole in the ice.

Keen green eyes watched the twine, and in a second it twitched. With an exultant cry, the redhead in her bearskin wrappings pulled with both hands, yanking up the fish she had seen circling beneath the ice and hole.

"Dah! Lunch will be sarved shortly!" she cried as she took her bow and her speared quarry to midships, setting to searing it over the little iron stove.

Elinor sighed darkly, looking at the still unraveling twine, which undid her hard work with each movement of her daughter. It was supposed to be a gift for the new queen of the port of Arendelle, an ancient trading partner of Dunbroch. Now it was just a strung burlap sheet with a few colored threads clinging to it. And she would have to find some other gift for the new monarch.

* * *

The slow procession of the ships of Dunbroch, MacGuffin, Dingwall, and MacIntosh up the fjord actually helped. With her daughter distracted by her rather sizable fish, Elinor was able to reclaim most of her twine. Unable to recraft the historical piece she'd been working on, she set to work on something more abstract. Given the winter season, and the huge crystal she had heard of, and could now see perched atop the parapets of the central Keep of Arendelle, she wove out a knot in two shades of royal blue, pointing it sharply to form a snow flake which resembled the great crystal sparkling in the cool winter sun.

By the time they arrived in the port itself, her hands throbbed and ached, but she'd managed her task admirably, she thought. Standing and rubbing her hands, she stuffed them into the sable muff attached to her coats.

"Ach! Ye daft barins!" came an angry cry from beneath one of the other boats, "Clan MacIntosh will look like daft leetle fools if our ship keels over in harbor!"

"Well Maybe if Dah had'na decided to try to dock on what 'mounts ta dry land!" Merida barked right back at the skinny lord with the notable nose.

Elinor felt no compunction to chastise her daughter. The princess was absolutely correct. And while it might be unladylike to bellow at men the way men bellowed at each other… after the rough crossing and the even rougher long walk, the queen was in no mood to spare the boys their tongue lashing, proper decorum be damned.

Merida just about fell overboard as their own knarr was set down on the solid ice next to a pier. Only her father's massive hand grabbing the back of her brown bearskin cloak saved her plummeting several meters to the harsh ice below.

"Ach, thanks Dah." She sighed, wiping her brow, and watching her breath steam away along with her sweat.

"Such a cold land…" the huge man lamented as he looked out at the kingdom build up around the natural harbor. "How is it we sailed due east, but it be getting colder?"

"I dunnae," Merida looked out, holding herself, "I hate sailin' almost as much as I hate them wee pinching corsets. All I nae is tha I heard rumors they can have winter during summer time 'ere."

"Merida," The Queen cautioned as she moved to the gang plank being lowered to the pier, "Spreading rumors, particularly about a fellow royal, is not ladylike. Or do ye forget what transpired just this summer with Lord Dingwall?"

Merida winced in spite of herself. "Aye… tha rumor he spread about tha welshie princess and her tastes fer her horses was… ah bit nasty."

"To say the least," Her mother snorted, shaking her head as if to dislodge the very thought.

"Ooooh lookie, this be the welcoming party Me thinks!" the aforementioned short, squat lord of clan Dingwall pointed as he disembarked from his own ship, straightening his long winter kilt.

* * *

Elsa blinked, looking down the jetty as she walked the parapets of the castle. Was that… Sven? Well obviously it was; there was only one reindeer which walked the dockways and streets as if he were people. But, why was he walking towards the protected cove where the strangers were setting down their boats?

Oh, because Kristoff and Anna were already there.

"Oh dear," The queen muttered beneath her breath. She had intended for Anna to bring her male friend to her in the palace, not to go out and greet the newcomers directly.

"But I didn't _say_ that, did I?" She sighed rubbing her face softly, reminding herself again that her sister was rather direct. "Well, best intervene before she triggers an incident."

"Hello!" came yet another familiar voice, causing her highness to sigh. From the other end of the dock came her little winter vassal. "My name is Olaf!"

Thankfully he at least didn't need his personal snow storm to keep him alive this time of year. She'd learned that strangely, that seemed to frighten outsiders even more than the magically animated and friendly snowman alone.

Still, she quickened her step as she turned away from the tall walls of the fortified harbour, wishing to intercept any excitement from the lively and impromptu diplomats greeting the newcomers in… dresses?

They were all wearing dresses, the women in long frocks she vaguely recognized, but the men in intricately striped long… skirts.

"Er… I…" She chewed her lip, slowing her approach to the strangers in uncertainty, still seeing her sister and Kristoff on the far side of the pier.

At least they weren't Vikings… So far as she knew, Vikings didn't wear skirts. Assured of that much at least, she straightened her bearing and started walking towards the assemblage, trying to overhear what was being said so she would have a lead in to the conversation.

"I swear, Mudder, if I have to spend one more second on this daft barq, I'll start barkin' too!"

"…as if you're not already, dear?" Came a terse but more restrained tone.

Elsa looked around, and then over. The nearest of the four long ships still had some people on its upper deck. Elsa recognized even at a distance the glint of a golden crown in the evening sun. Looking from the rough looking men in their checked skirts to the boats, the queen changed course, walking up the gangway towards the apparently royal personage. After all, why talk to the porters when she could address someone of stature?

She made it three steps before the gangway leading up to the precariously leaning boat was kicked aside, dropping down to the frozen fjord below. This brought the Queen up short. Normally she would simply make her own gangway of ice; save for the fact that the pushing of the gangway was no accident. The older woman had kicked it away from the younger's foot.

"Ma! Wha did you go and do that for?" the younger glared at the bulwark were the path had just been beneath her foot.

"To stop you making a fool of yerself, dear," the elder clarified, folding her arms before herself in a sable ruff. "Yer father is in command of this expedition. It is his duty and position to make contact with the officials of the port."

"…and it is ME duty to get me feet on dry land befer I turn into a bloomin' fish!" the younger woman in her deep green dress and bearskin over wrap stamped her foot.

"Oh don't be so dramatic." The older woman huffed, shaking her head "You have been dry fer hours now, we haven't seen the sea in three. Once yer father has met the harbor master, or whomever is in charge around here, we may disembark and you'll have yer precious dry land."

Elsa looked around. If this woman was royalty then her husband should be nearby. Protocol dictated she meet him so that that poor disturbed girl could get off the boat.

"Nay!" she heard a rather strident bark.

She turned to look back, and saw the younger woman again mount the bulwark. She drew out a bow and looked around from her tilted vantage. The Queen of Arendelle watched as the girl in the heavy quilted winter dress put an arrow into the bow and then raised it into position. The girl then sneered and paused, yanking away her toque in a fit, tossing the veiled hat to the deck of the ship and unveiling a spectacular mass of ginger curls.

Before Elsa could think to call out a warning to her guards not to attack the suddenly armed woman; the mad ginger let fly her arrow. It whistled through the cold Scandinavian air and struck home in a mooring post a remarkable distance away. The Queen then watched as the girl tied off a fine rope that had apparently been lashed to the missile to the ship and then went astride the taught cord with leather soled shoes.

"Merida…" came a taut and dangerous growl, "If ye take one step on that blasted rope, I'll set yer father on ye."

This apparently did not phase the crazed redhead, and she took a rather pointed step out over the edge of the knarr.

"No, worse… I'll set yer brothers on ye." Came another threat through royally clenched teeth.

This seemingly got the girl's attention. She paused, looking back at her mother. As Elsa watched, she chewed her lip and weighed her apparent options.

Whatever went through the mad ginger's mind; she decided that either the threat was an empty one, or that her desire to see terra firma outweighed the repercussions. She went sliding down the taut rope, which unfortunately, was not so taut as it first seemed.

Or rather, the knarr it was attached to was not so stable, balanced on its keel on the ice. The sudden shift in weight from its new mooring line and the weight on it unbalanced the long ship. It heeled to the newly weighted side with a loud creak. This had the effect of loosening the lined the raving redhead was sliding down, and sending the men beneath the boat scurrying in a panic.

And while it didn't upset the girl enough to loose her footing, it did drop her pathway a good six feet, which left her charging right at the Queen of Arendelle.

Elsa was so shocked by the sequence of events that she almost failed to react to them.

The ginger astride the rope was in a similar spot; she hadn't counted on the sudden change in footing, nor the appearance of a blonde waif in her new path.

Both girls squawked in surprise at the oncoming collision.

Merida leapt skyward, trying to lift herself up and over the minnie in her route, unfortunately the rope now had too much slack for her to generate much thrust.

Elsa threw up her hands in a panic. With the gesture, a gleaming frostbitten arc of ice appeared before her, curving up and into the winter sun like an angry spire.

Non-plussed by yet another obstacle suddenly in her path, the princess of Dunbrock worked to bring her feet under her mid-flight. She hit the glistening white ramp in front of her, and immediately slipped; having mistaken ice for snow and having only leather sheaves on her feet. She squawked loudly as she went arse over tea kettle, upwards into the sky at a frightening velocity.

Realizing what further chaos was ensuing, the Queen of Arendelle spun about and worked her magic hard. A frigid blast blew across the docks, and in an instant the angry shard of frosted ice broke apart into so many snowflakes, which quickly settled in a neat pile on the plank work.

And just in time as Merida landed in the drift with a thump, a pouf, and a groan.

A moment later, her wild thatch of crimson curls emerged from the drift and she shivered, "Ach… wha in the world was that? I feel like I just tangled with tha dragon of Silene…"

"Er… uh…" the Queen toed the wood planks beneath her feet uncertainly, looking from the apparent princess upwards to her thoroughly put-out mother on the deck of the ship. A woman who had watched the entire debacle unfold from the high vantage, and now saw the crown perch atop Elsa's head, "as Queen of Arendelle, I officially… welcome you?"


	2. Chapter 2

"_**FrostFlight"**_

**By Eoraptor**

**T for Teen.**

**Chapter 2**

_AN: Frozen and Brave are both Property of the Walt Disney Company. This work is not-for profit and is intended solely for the enjoyment of its audience under fair use._

* * *

Elsa sat on the throne, looking at the assemblage. She'd only been 'On the Throne' for a few months, but she was quite certain that this was, by quite a measure, the oddest formal audience she'd yet presided over.

Before her stood a mountainous man, as tall as the North Mountain itself, and considerably wider. He wore a helm of iron appointed with gold in place of a crown, and had a crooked, uncertain grin smeared across his face. Flanking him on one side, now divested of her black sable muff and heavy cloak, was his Queen. Her face was carefully schooled compared to his uncertain smile, but Elsa could read the concealed emotions there as if printed on the page; embarrassment, irritation, perhaps some anger.

To the giant's other side was the younger woman. Like her mother she had divested herself of her winter weather gear now that they were inside the warmth of the palace, so the bear-skin cloak was long gone. In looks she favoured neither parent; but in stance she easily bore her father's uncertain charms. She was rolling from foot to foot awkwardly, and whenever the Queen of Arendelle favoured her with a glance, she would give the same large and uncertain grin.

Arrayed behind them were the apparently Lords of their Kingdom, which Elsa had now been told was Scottish, from across the North Sea and beyond the Norman Iles of Britania. There was a short man with a ruddy complexion who was constantly giving everyone and everything around him the evil eye. Next to him was a slim man with a wild shock of dark hair and a notable nose, who seemed very impressed with himself indeed. On the far side was a big man of blonde hair and complexion who said little, and said it in a tongue Elsa could not decipher nor place. And behind each man, apparently his heir. Making for quite the procession in the moderate court of Arrendelle.

"Now then…" She finally picked up the thread of the earlier greeting now that the guests were comfortable and their ships and crews seen to, "I… ah… I would like to formally welcome you again to Arendelle."

Elsa chewed her lower lip. Anna and Kristoff were nowhere to be seen. They had found the alien ships to be too interesting to be ignored. Sven was supervising the offloading of whatever trade cargo the strange ships had, so much as a reindeer could be said to oversee anything, even one with a medal pinned to his chest. Even Olaf was toddling about somewhere, and in a rare moment Elsa wished for his less-than-sage council.

"Ach, thank you lass- ooof!" the giant's grinning rejoinder was cut off by some invisible stroke. "I mean Yer Highness."

Given the way he suddenly favoured his real left foot, Elsa figured his Queen took issue with his familiar address. She smirked faintly to herself and seized on this, "But I am confused, why come to us now, in the middle of the winter. A dangerous crossing, King Fergus?"

"Oh, Twas nothing we couldnae handle, La-," The king quickly changed verbal course from a dainty clearing of throat, "Highness. Just a wee bit o' chop comin' across the sea."

"A wee bit o' chop?" came a strident bark of disbelief from the short and keen eyed man. "That what ye be callin' the gale that cost us four days and nearly sent us to the Moorish coast? A WEE BIT OF CHOP?!"

Elsa watched the colorful explosions and straightened herself, giggling a bit. She actually felt better for the violence over the officious pomposity. If these visitors were focusing on each other, they weren't focused on her. And she didn't feel under the spyglass…. It left her a lot more at ease, and the great hall of the castle was much warmer for it.

Until the little man launched himself bodily at the King of DunBroch with a wail, "WELL I'LL GIVE YE SOME CHOP!"

This seemed some sort of agreed upon cue, and chaos descended on the audience chamber. The Queen of Arendelle gasped as anarchy suddenly reigned in her place, the dull smacking of fists on faces echoing around the plaster coated walls of the chamber. She suddenly felt glad that weapons were not allowed in the Palace, for all the damage these Scotts were doing with just their bare hands. She watched in slow, cold, creeping horror as the huge blonde man with the piggy tails grabbed the skinny Lord with the notable nose and launched him almost to the rafters of the two-story hall.

"Um… I don't think that's-," the fair Queen tried to regain order.

And the goofey looking boy with the receeding jaw suddenly flew like a javelin at the giant blond man latching on with teeth that looked carved from a block of ivory.

"That is to say I really don't believe you should-," She tried again, holding up a hand for calm.

The son of the hawk-nosed man spun and grabbed hold of the round blonde boy and bowled him right away down the carpet, before raising his fists over his head and grunting victoriously.

"OH, now that just wasn't fair!" Elsa declared as the rug slid with the blonde boy, affronted on his behalf.

_**~FROSTFLIGHT~**_

Merida grinned a predatory grin as Dingwall launched into his usual explosive attack. She crouched to leap into the fray, seeing that Younger MacIntosh was once again preening after delivering a blow to his opponent, sending Angus down the hallway on that showy rug. The daft boar always was one to congratulate himself too soon and this time it would cost him if the redhead had anything to say on the matter.

Except that she felt a steely hand on her shoulder right at the moment she tensed to leap on her prey. Looking up and expecting to see Angus MacGuffin, the ox-strong boy with the heart of a lamb. Instead it was her mother, whose brown eyes had hardened with righteous indignation.

Sighing and knowing that she was the one expected to put right this wee fracas since she'd done it three times this season already, Merida nodded reluctantly and chewed her lip, considering her angles anew. She needed somewhere high up; a perch from which she could project out over the chaos.

Well, there were few things higher in this hoity toity ballroom than her Dah, she saw with a fearsome grin. Looking around, she spied her means to attain her perch, a long standard with the purple and blue banner of this wee port hanging limply from it. Honestly who flew standards inside? They were meant to wave proudly in the breeze, not gather dust in the corner.

Shaking off the errant thought, the Princess of DunBroch raced right at it; grabbing up the long iron pike and causing it to wave to life as she turned in mid-stride. Then she raced for her father, who had Dingwall in one fist and MacIntosh in the other, and seemed about to collide them like a pair of tankards.

"Oi… Dah… ye know skull crackin' isn't for the throne room…" She grumbled at her father getting caught up in the moment.

Racing forward, Merida planted the brightly colored standard on the floor between her father's foot and leg-post, and then raced up his body while using the iron post as a hand hold. Half way up, she locked her legs around King Fergus's broad chest and bent backwards. With a grunt she hoisted the purple-and-blue standard up behind her, spun it through the air like a possessed broad-axe, and broke her dad's grip on his noblemen with the motion, sending them plummeting to the floor.

Grunting again with the effort of pivoting upwards again, the redhead planted the foot of the Arendelle standard right on top of her father's iron helmet with a solid crack and then quickly shimmied her way the rest of the way up his towering form.

She kissed his cheek on the way past because it was clear from the glazed look in his eyes that he had been knocked insensate by the blow of the iron pike on his iron crown, "Sorry Dah, ye've had yer fun."

Planting her feet on the broad man's big shoulders, she hefted the brilliant banner over her head and waved it back and forth, inhaling deeply and then letting go a bellow worthy of her entire line, _**"Knock It Off Ye Daft Clods!"**_

Elsa yelped and grabbed her right hand with her left, forcing it skyward at the last possible moment. It pulsed, audibly and visibly, as she let go a blast of icy magic that whistled across the audience chamber.

She had intended to neatly freeze the helmet off of King Fergus's head and get his attention. But in the split second she had stood to loose her blast, the helmet had been replaced on his head by his five foot tall daughter, waving Elsa's own standard and yelling at the top of her lungs like some demented circus performer.

The Queen of Arendelle watched the glowing blue bolt sail upwards, trailing fractals of crystal behind it as if time itself had been slowed by the cold she hurled, right at the redhead waving the cerulean and magenta banner.

Merida stared at the incoming missile, transfixed. She'd never seen anything like the twisting crystalline bolt headed right towards her face, and could only appreciate how it flew, completely without the parabolic arc she'd come to expect of her own arrows, spinning off perfect darts of ice behind it.

Right up to the instant that some survival-minded part of her brain pointed out that that magical missile was headed right at her head.

She yipped and pulled the iron post of the Arendelle standard in front of her face, hiding behind the billowing purple and blue cotton from the incoming projectile.

She watched, transfixed, as the fabric stopped billowing, apparently frozen in place from the bolt. It took on an odd form, snapping into place just ahead of the wave of energy, until the entire fabric banner was contorted into an alien shape.

"Ach! Heavy!" grunting, the redhead struggled to keep the standard aloft as it suddenly doubled its apparently weight in her grasp.

The sudden cold biting and searing into her palms didn't help, and Merida dropped the pole from her grasp, six feet down to the ground from her perch atop her stunned father.

It clattered with wicked portent on the polished wood floor at his feet, the cloth banner cracking and snapping into shards as it bounced once and then shattered. The sound echoed around harshly, as the entire chamber had fallen silent at the twin displays.

All eyes in the audience chamber snapped up to the fiery redhead who was rubbing her hands and shoving them under her armpits, and then as one looked across the long hall to the queen who had hurled the missile.

Elsa yelped and swallowed, trying to resist the urge to dart behind the throne and hide from the eyes staring at her. Clenching her hands indelicately and then hiding them behind her body, she giggled nervously, "Um… So… as I was saying, about welcoming you to Arendelle… and stuff… and…"

The grand doors at the far end of the hall suddenly swung open, revealing another redhead, accompanied by another big blond man and a reindeer. She looked around at the shambles of the audience chamber, the redhead rubbing her hands, and the queen trying to turn invisible in front of the throne.

"Elsa… did you do it again?" she surmised quickly, tisking at her sister chidingly.

The hawk-nosed Lord Macintosh chose that moment to plummet to the floor from the rafters, landing in a pile next to Anna at the door, "Ooof. Wait-, you mean to say tha lass has done this before?"

"Oh yeah…" Anna confirmed cheerily, "On the vernal equinox she froze the entire fjord for two days! She… gets a little worked up sometimes."

The entire assemblage of scottsmen took a very large step back in unison, and every one of them made a pint to not make any sudden noises or movements that might 'work up' the queen.

"Dah? A lil help here?" Merida complained from her post standing on her father's shoulders, her hands still firmly jammed in the armpits of her dress.

Fergus, still a bit confused, held his arms out into space. The redheaded princess dropped down into them, and was dutifully set back on her feet next to her mother. She stamped her feet, glad it was only her hands that had gotten frosted, an eyed the willowy queen who was trying to bolt from the throne.

"And I thought baers and wisps was trouble. Ach, Lord save me from magic!"

"Merida!" Queen Elinor barked, swatting her daughter on the backside, "Manners! You have no room to speak considering you nearly tackled her highness not an hour ago."

"There's a difference between tha and nearly turning me into a frozen custard!" the redhead challenged, jabbing a finger in the direction of the waifish queen.

"No- no it's quite all right… it's my fault…" Elsa breathed slowly and deeply, holding up her hands in supplication. "I th- think we all got off on the wrong foot here. Maybe I should explain from the beginning?"


End file.
